


Unexpected Indecorum

by venvephe



Series: The Snowglobe Series [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Awkwardness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venvephe/pseuds/venvephe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Hart much prefers meeting his enemies - and Mrs. Unwin - clad in the armor of a tailored suit.</p>
<p>That is not what happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Indecorum

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from tumblr - "Harry meets Eggsy's mom and everything is really awkward." I decided to compound the awkward by ridding Harry of his trousers.
> 
> Inspired by Gambit, at least visually - if you haven't seen this film, I highly recommend it. Colin's thighs make a particularly nice appearance.

London is quiet at night, especially at - Harry cracks an eye open to glance at the clock on the nightstand - just past three. There’s no dull roar of faraway morning traffic, or the nearer sounds of car horns or pedestrians - just the quiet snoring of Eggsy against his front, face mashed inelegantly against the pillow. He wraps his arm tighter around Eggsy’s waist, nosing along the line of his shoulder, half-awake, and Eggsy hums, shifting in Harry’s arms.

" ‘s time?"

"Just past three," Harry whispers, and Eggsy yawns widely, knitting his fingers with Harry’s over his bare belly.

"Why’re you awake, then?"

Harry sighs, pulling away from his lover with reluctance. “Loo.”

Eggsy shivers at the loss of heat as Harry sits up and settles the blanket back over him, smoothing along his back. ” ‘m already cold; get back quick.”

The loo is only down the hall - Eggsy had let his mother take the larger bedroom in their new home, the one with its own attached bath - so Harry doesn’t bother with his dressing gown or slippers; he pads bare-footed and trouser-less and in the dark to go relieve himself. Eggsy would take it as a mark of domestic success, that Harry’s finally comfortable enough to go without trousers in his home, but with his mother and Daisy away for the weekend, there was little worry of being caught unawares.

In fact - Harry notices as he dries his hands - there’s no glass by the side of the sink as there usually is, and the dry winter air has him rather parched. He peeks down the hallway back towards Eggsy’s door - it’s actually quiet enough to hear that Eggsy has returned to snoring, though that could just as easily be JB - and he flips the light off in the loo. Eggsy won’t notice if he’s gone another minute longer.

He shuffles down the stairs - perk of being a spy, moving around in the dark and never banging one’s toes - and he’s almost through the door to the kitchen when it registers in his sleepy brain that the kitchen light - which they had definitely turned off earlier that evening - was now on.

It’s over-bright to his eyes and he blinks owlishly as he steps into the kitchen proper, and promptly almost trips over his own feet in surprise.

Michelle is sitting at the kitchen table, Daisy - face pink and tear-tracked, though she’s making not a sound - perched in front of her and wrapped in her arms. She looks up at Harry when he makes a small noise of alarm, and stares - just as shocked as he is. Harry reaches for his hip but only finds the cloth of his pants - right, no pistol, unarmed because they’re supposed to be  _alone this weekend_ , good god.

Somewhere between the jolt of adrenaline in his veins and the flush of being caught unaware in his pants, Harry remembers that he’s only seen Eggsy’s mother maybe half a dozen times since giving her the news about her husband more than fifteen years ago. And - he’s  _dating her son_ , that’s one level of awkward, but it’s quite another to be caught in the middle of the night wearing only one’s  _plaid pants_  and a ratty Royal Marines t-shirt that is rather more threadbare than not. Harry’s not even sure if Eggsy ever told his mother that Harry periodically slept over their house - or vice versa.

Well. Nothing to do but to go for it and be a gentleman. He clears his throat, trying for a neutral, pleasant expression despite his surprise.

"Good - evening," Harry says haltingly, feeling very wrong-footed - though what does it matter, honestly, if it is  _good evening_  or  _good morning_  at just past three when you’re  _in your_   _pants in front of your boyfriend’s mother_.

"Mrs. Unwin, Daisy. I didn’t realize you would be in so late."

Michelle’s eyes flick up and down quickly, eyes tired but narrowed, and she gamely doesn’t comment on his state of dress - or lack thereof. “I planned to stay overnight at my sister’s, but Daisy wouldn’t settle. We just got in.”

"Ah," Harry replies, and gestures to the sink as he walks towards the cabinet, "Just popping down for a glass of water."

Neither Michelle nor Daisy say a word as he fills his glass, but they watch him avidly - the former with her lips pressed thin, though her eyes were still wide and she kept glancing at his bare thighs - and the latter with the curious innocence of a child so surprised that it halted her tears. The kitchen is stifling under the awkwardness; he feels both hot and cold at the same time between the restrained embarrassment and the actual physical chill of being not even half-dressed. Harry barely manages to raise his glass in a toast and grimace a smile while wishing them goodnight before fleeing back up the stairs. It takes restraint to not actually run and take them two at a time.

As he approaches Eggsy’s room JB comes pattering out, snorting and gruffly barking that strange howling bark of his, and Harry scowls.

"Some guard dog you are," he accuses quietly, willing away the flush that seems to be creeping from his face down his neck, dear lord. Mortification doesn’t come easy to Harry Hart, who is far old enough and experienced enough to be comfortable in his own skin, but this was rather too much. He much prefers meeting his enemies - and Mrs. Unwin - clad in the armor of a tailored suit.

"Took you long enough," Eggsy mumbles as Harry slides between the sheets again, turning over to rest his chin on Harry’s chest and fling an arm across him, snuggling close.

"I was waylaid by your mother," Harry says, and his dread-filled tone makes Eggsy’s eyes fly open in surprise.

"No," he says with something like a mock-gasp.

"I went downstairs for a glass of water," he explains, and glances over at Eggsy - who seems to be attempting an expression of horror and concern, and is failing miserably at containing his absolute glee at the second-hand embarrassment Harry’s relaying.

"She kept staring at my knees," Harry continues when Eggsy can’t reply, still trying to restrain his chuckling by biting his lip.

"They’re lovely knees," Eggsy manages with minimal cackling, patting them over the covers comfortingly. "What I wouldn’t give to have seen her face!"

"Well, for one, I’m quite sure you actually  _enjoy_  seeing me in my pants,” Harry sighs, resigned, and slings an arm around Eggsy’s shoulders - to which Eggsy mutters  _Fuck yes_  between chuckles.

"But you’ll see her face in the morning, I’m sure. She’s probably going to have questions about my being here,  _and_  my state of undress.”

Eggsy’s face falls at that, and Harry can’t help but crack a grin as Eggsy exhales and cover his face in his hands.  

"Oh, fuck."

**Author's Note:**

> For more Kingsman and Hartwin-variety writing and art, follow me on [tumblr](http://venvephe.tumblr.com)!


End file.
